


If I Had Wings

by AndyArchives



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Patient death, Suicide Attempt Mention, Touch Telepathy, crewmember death, established mcspirk, h/c, mention of OC death, mention of infant death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyArchives/pseuds/AndyArchives
Summary: A power outage in Sick Bay led to five deaths on the operating tables. McCoy has lost patients before, but never like this. Luckily, his boyfriends can tell something is wrong and decide to pay him a visit.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	If I Had Wings

**Author's Note:**

> You ever just get real mad people assume Kirk and Spock and McCoy don’t care about the deaths of members of their crew despite the canon proving the opposite and just *clenches hand* HAVE to fix it?

When Spock and Jim entered the doctor’s chambers, they immediately noticed something was wrong. The floor was littered with personal items: his lab uniform, bags of half-eaten food, empty liquor bottles and, on the way to his room, pants, socks, and eventually underwear. 

The both of them flinched before entering. The doctor was lying on his side in bed, wearing his sleep clothes and clutching a blanket in one hand and a decantor of Romulan whiskey in the other. He was watching a holo-movie on the Wall in front of him. They noticed it immediately as one of the many old western movies he liked. He was in the middle of a particularly noisy scene, filled with gunfire and the sounds of fighting.

“Doctor,” said Spock, at a volume he knew would get through to him.

“Ugh,” McCoy groaned, followed by a grumbling shout: “Computer! Pause display and light cabin to level two.”

The noise stopped and a warm gold light lit the perimeter of the cabin floor.

“What do you want?” Mccoy asked, placing the decanter down on the ground.

“We came to check on you,” said Jim. “We...heard about what happened during the power outage.”

McCoy’s blue eyes went icy for a moment as he was reminded of the day’s earlier events. “Well if you couldn’t already tell by the whiskey, I don’t want to talk about it.”

A spark ignited in Jim’s eyes as an idea seemed to come to him.

“That’s fine! Great even, right, Spock?”

The captain threw Spock a look that told him everything he needed to know: it would have to be a long night. 

“Yes,” said Spock, resigning to his fate. 

“We mostly just wanted to drink with you,” continued the captain. “Mind if we join?” 

McCoy gestured to a sealed bottle of scotch on the table. Kirk busied himself with the wax seal while Spock found three glasses, offering one to McCoy. Him and Kirk settled on either side of his couch and pointedly kept the third drink on the table.

McCoy groaned and rolled out of bed. He flopped onto the couch between them and took the drink Jim put in his hand.

“What would you like to toast to?” Jim asked him.

“I don’t want to toast, I’d rather...nevermind.”

“Bones...”

“‘Doctor’ this, ‘Bones’ that. Has it ever occurred to either of you that I might not like always being referred to in ways that have to do with my career? How about you both call me Leonard now, since we’re off-duty? I’d love to be reminded for once that I’m a man, not a goddamn walking miracle worker.”

Kirk and Spock exchanged a knowing look.

“Sorry, Len,” said Jim, his voice gentle. The use of the old nickname “Len” did not go unnoticed: it was what Jim had called Leonard when they were younger, before he’d started calling him ‘Bones.’

Spock opened his mouth and seemed to struggle with the beginning of his sentence. “Leonard...we have not, in my recent memory, asked you to perform miracles..”

“You ask by default when you do things like what you two put me through today!”

At last—they’d dug through to the heart of the problem and finally hit paydirt. Kirk and Spock exchanged another glance.

“And will you two stop with giving each other those looks?” Mccoy grumbles into his glass. “If you’re gonna come in here and confront me directly at least be honest about your intentions.”

“Leonard...” said Spock, looking steadily at him. “We did not wish to upset you. We approached you today with the intentions of...” Spock trailed off—something he never did, and looked at Kirk, as if passing him the torch.

“We wanted to see if you wanted to talk about what happened today. Sometimes that helps.”

“Did you not hear what I just told you?” said Leonard. “How is talking about losing crew members plus a mother and her child going to help anything?”

“A mother...and child?” asked Spock. He knew they had lost five people in their sickbay, but he was not aware of the presence of a child.

“Oh that’s right, you two probably haven’t had the privilege of going over my nurse’s records yet. How great for you two!”

Kirk squared his jaw, the way he did when he was swallowing anger. He eyed him carefully, took a breath, then let his gaze relax. His mouth fell back into a neutral, gentle expression.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” said Bones. 

“I know you do,” said Kirk. “And I bet you know what I’m gonna say and everything.” 

“I can’t do this...” he said. 

“You don’t have to,” said Jim, “you can take your time.”

Spock opened his mouth, at last. “I would like to offer you the solution of a Vulcan mind meld. It can have a calming affect when used on humans in very specific ways. It is a decent way for humans to process trauma. Captain Kirk can attest to the effectiveness of this.”

Bones pulled a face and made a reluctant noise in the back of his throat. He seemed both uncomfortable and...unworthy of the offer. He felt he didn’t deserve so much as the kindness of Spock’s tone.

“I’m okay, but...thanks,” he said. 

Spock nodded in concession.

“You don’t have to talk about it either,” Kirk said. “Do you...want to have a moment of silence for them?”

“I don’t see what good that’ll do.”

Kirk’s voice dropped to a low and soft tone. “You could say a prayer for them...I know you’re lax in the religion department, but we could give you a moment.”

“Prayer,” he covered his eyes and laughed in a sour way. “I was praying to whatever the hell’s out there—if anything—the entire time I worked on them. Some good that did.”

Bones downed the rest of his whiskey and poured himself another generous serving. 

“You could pray for Lieutenant Evans,” said Spock, with a note of gentleness. 

“How did you figure out he was the dad?”

“I was in the engineering room during the beginning of Lieutenant Bailey’s pregnancy. I saw them together. I also noticed the anxiety in Lieutenant Evans. His productiveness decreased by forty percent due to stress in little under a month’s time.”

Bones’s hands shook, enough to make him put down his drink and clasp both of his knees. “Since when were you a believer of anything, Spock?”

“I am merely offering you a logical option for a prayer that would, as you put it, ‘do some good.’”

“It’d be better if I talked to him,” he said, “but I couldn’t even look him in the eyes when I told him what happened. Worst news I’ve ever delivered. I couldn’t even give him the dignity of eye contact.”

“I have heard that is normal.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s normal, he still deserved better. I know I sure deserved the earful I got from him.”

A vacuous silence filled the space between them as Kirk and Spock absorbed this fact. They hadn’t known Lieutenant Evans had taken his pain out on the Doctor. It hurt both Kirk and Spock to know this had happened to him. They were aware he dealt with angry, grieving people often, but there was nothing they could do about it.

“Maybe,” said Kirk, “if you start by praying for him, you’ll be more emotionally ready to talk to him on your own time. When he’s ready, too.”

“I couldn’t form the words even in my head,” he said. “I just remember how...how heavy the baby felt...Why are bodies so much heavier when they’re dead? And the mother...She just looked up and then slipped away. The baby didn’t even cry. I think...I think she knew. She couldn’t even die with false hope that her baby would make it.”

His speaking voice cracked as his throat closed up. He covered his mouth as a wave of tears bubbled up in his throat.

Kirk and Spock waited. Sometimes Leonard wanted to be touched when he was upset, and other times he didn’t. Kirk lifted his arms, and to his relief, his friend fell into them. 

There were no words for the sounds he was making, or the visceral pain his sobs conveyed. There were no words, either, for the hole his agony tore through the hearts of Kirk and Spock. 

Spock moved forward and laid a hand on Leonard’s shoulder.

“Is it alright if I use touch telepathy?” He asked. Leonard nodded, desperate for anything at all to ease this awful, clawing self hatred. 

Spock put a hand on his shoulder at the hem of his short sleeves. He put his personal mind shields up and focused on sending love his way.

Spock got closer on the couch. Leonard was slumped over in Kirk’s arms. Spock reached out and put his hands along the nape of his back. Kirk’s hand brushed with his, like Spock had hoped he would do. 

It was as if the three of their hearts were settling into the same safe, protected space. They could feel a sharp, jagged shard of pain against them from McCoy, and simply pushed back with as much love as possible.

Bones had graduated from sobbing to hyperventilating. Kirk and Spock relaxed their arms as needed so he could breathe. They sent him love.

“Stop,” Bones whimpered. He was near hysteria. “I don’t deserve this.” 

Spock frowned. “We are not sending you false emotions, Leonard.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he said again, breathing in quick, tight gasps.

“Yes you do,” said Kirk and Spock, too distracted by Bones to even share a look over the fact they’d said the same thing at once.

McCoy cried harder, clutching Jim’s shirt in his fist. Spock continued to channel the love both he and Kirk had for him to help Leonard feel it, like a mental embrace.

“They were both so healthy. Then...the baby was so small...”

“We know, hon,” whispered Kirk, unable to hold back even his own tears now. He laid a kiss to Leonard’s hairline. “We know...”

Spock tapped Kirk’s hand, then waited for him to let go of McCoy. Leonard turned towards Spock and noticed the urgent look in his eyes. He wiped his face, sniffed, and looked him in the eyes. 

“What?” he asked.

“I wanted you to know that...I grieve with thee. Do you know that saying among Vulcans?”

“I do,” said McCoy. His voice cracked again as he said, “I know what you mean. Thank you.”

He surprised both of them when he pulled Spock into a quick embrace. 

Once his arms were around Spock, Bones attempted to pull away. Spock allowed him to, watching him curiously.

“Sorry. I didn’t know if you were okay with that.”

“It is all right, Leonard. Please,” he opened his arms, and Leonard smiled and sank into his embrace.

Spock tightened his grip on him, sending more love his way. Kirk laced his fingers together with Spock’s and sent love as well. Finally, Kirk simply wrapped his arms around the both of them, ensuring his fingers rested against Spock’s skin so the telepathic connection wouldn’t be disrupted.

“Alright...you can get off me,” said Leonard, once he’d gotten ahold of himself. “Let a man breathe,” he joked, wiggling a little as his boyfriends let him go. 

He was breathing heavy, this time for better reasons, and biting his lip. He was surprised when a little giggle spilled from his lips. A rush of warmth and happiness touched him, then settled into something very similar to where his mind had been before. 

“Damn, that touch telepathy is a hell of a drug,” he said. Kirk and Spock laughed: a deep but quiet laugh from Kirk, and a quickened exhale from Spock, paired with a quirk at the corner of his lips.

Leonard noticed something as they laughed together. Kirk and Spock hadn’t taken away his pain so much as put a net underneath it—a lifeline he could grab onto if things got too bad. If what he was going through ended up tipping him over the edge—into that deep, awful, pit he’d been in the bottom of before and didn’t want to approach again, he had a safety net. It wasn’t an unbreakable net. If it got too strained and broke, he would have scraps of rope left to cling to. He would have something that, if he could mentally handle his own weight, he would be able to use to scrabble back to the surface again. He would have to put all of his strength into it, but something told him he wouldn’t be taking a dive into the abyss that night.

The pleasant, giddy mist cleared around him and he took a good look into the pair of eyes that were set on him so intently. His gaze settled on the pairs of eyes fixed upon him. He felt somewhere deep in his stomach that even though he still felt pretty bad, he was going to be alright—at least for the night.

“Uh...can I have a moment?” he asked. 

Immediately, Kirk and Spock scattered and watched him go into his bedroom. He could hear them return to normal conversation as the door closed behind him.

Leonard cracked his knuckles and sighed, casting a weary glance towards his bed. 

Maybe it was the harsh conditioning from his grandparents that was giving him such a hang-up about the concept of praying. They’d taken care of him a lot in his youth, since his parents worked long and hard. His grandparents’ old-fashioned ways shaped the very skeleton of his being. He’d grown up refreshing their brandies and fetching their pills and fluffing their pillows and saying “yes ma’am, yes sir, no sir, no ma’am.” He’d grown up dressing for church and saying his prayers. Every night when his grandparents stayed over they would wait to tuck him in until he could tell them he was finished saying his prayers. He’d grown up kneeling “properly” at the side of the bed for nighttime prayers

The thought of praying like that made him ill. His grandparents had taught him everything he knew, but they’d done it with firm and unforgiving hands. He was lucky to have his parents for reassurance, but often they’d be gone for up to a couple weeks at a time leaving him with his grandparents and...well, that was the first time he started to have anxiety spells. 

His grandparents had an unpleasant streak. When he’d forgotten to clean the dishes or a “thank you” or a birthday—if he cried too much or said too much or embarrassed them in any way, they would call him ungrateful. His grandpa had a particular affliction for the word “sissy,” especially when he was emotional.

He wouldn’t pray the way they’d want him to. Instead he pulled up a picture on his padd of the mother that had died that morning: Lieutenant Bailey. 

Even though Janet had planned to leave Star Fleet as soon as the baby arrived, there was never sorrow in the room with her around. There wasn’t time to think about the sadness of her leaving the Enterprise because of the happiness she carried with her. He remembered Janet Bailey as a fiesty young engineer, always chatting his ear off at every checkup from pure excitement, which had rubbed off on even his old, hardened heart.

The picture of her he pulled up was only a Star Fleet standard ID photo, taken from her public files, but it struck something in him when he saw her. 

He saved her picture, then moved onto Lieutenant Evans. He saved his ID picture, feeling a pinprick of pain at the light in his eyes, the hope in those irises he could practically feel. 

He set up his padd so he could see the photos of the young couple in front of him. Then he took out something he couldn’t even let Jim see: two scented candles he kept, under everyone’s noses, for his own personal use. He’d gotten Spock to disable the smoke detector in his room because, as he’d said “for God’s sake, Spock, people have been using medical marijuana for centuries. Why should I be punished because I prefer old fashioned joints?” In all honesty, he didn’t smoke weed nearly as much as he lit those candles. Once convinced this would genuinely aid him as well as get him to leave him alone, Spock conceded.

He pulled out his lighter and lit his lavender candles, one on each side of his padd, where both pictures were pulled up side by side. 

He didn’t realize until he sat down that he’d set up this space on his desk. He’d accidentally set up this whole prayer space on the very same desk he did his filing on.

He looked at the standee on his desk. 

Dr. Leonard McCoy. 

He figured he might as well accept it. There was no use in getting upset over something he'd worked so hard for. He was a doctor, and doctors lost patients. That was the hard truth he had to reckon with night after difficult night. He took comfort in knowing he wouldn't be feeling so sore if he hadn't done the very best he could to save Lieutenant Bailey and her child.

His grandparents had always taught him to press his palms together and kneel, so he intwined his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk. The setup felt infinitely more comfortable. He rested his head on his hands, lips laying on top of his thumbs.

He didn't pray to Jesus. He didn’t pray to a God. He didn't know who he was praying to. Hell, he could have just been forming words and sending them out to no one at all. But he figured it wasn't his business where the words went. What mattered was forming the words.

He apologized for letting them die. Cognitively, he knew that not even the best doctor in the galaxy could have saved Lieutenont Blaine or her child. Especially not in the middle of a power blackout. 

But in his heart, he felt like he'd killed them with his own two hands. He felt every patient he'd ever lost was a sanctioned murder.

He shook his head. Those thoughts weren't helpful to either of the people he was praying for. He thought about the two of them when they came in for checkups, happy as clams. He prayed for Bailey, and for Evans. Lastly, he prayed for the child.

He didn't ask for anything but peace. He knew, at the end of the day, peace was the only realistic thing to want for them. What more could you possibly want for those who had been through so much?

When he was through hemming and hawing his way through what he hoped was a decent prayer, he took a deep breath. He'd known the scent of the candles, but he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy it yet. He inhaled the relaxing scent of lavender deeply, and sighed.

He blew out the candles and put away the photos.

He stepped outside and made a gesture towards Kirk and Spock, inviting them inside. They stepped in, each of them giving him a compassionate look.

"I assume you two want to stay the night, huh?”

They gave no answer, just made themselves comfortable on each side of the bed. Bones chuckled when Jim patted the spot in between the two of them. He found himself ambling over to the bed somewhat sheepishly. He curled his shoulders inward and inserted himself awkwardly between his boyfriends. They cozied up against him and Jim handed him his sleep medicine, along with the water bottle he kept at his bedside table. He smiled and took the meds, then handed the water to Spock, who drained the bottle.

"Aw, thanks Spock, " said McCoy, employing sarcasm with a loving smile. Spock got up, refilled the water, and waved it in front of him in the dark. At last, he got back into bed and snuggled close to him. Kirk and Spock were asleep in record time. Bones was the last to fall asleep, but when he finally did, he did so with a sense of self-kindness that he had Kirk and Spock to thank for. 

*

The boys were awake long before McCoy was. The smell of coffee pulled him from the blanket of deep sleep.

“Ah, good morning, sunshine!” said Jim, a warm smile lighting up the room all on his own.

The smell of coffee wafted closer to his nose. He smiled up at Jim and took the handle of the mug. He sipped at the coffee and listened to Jim's morning chatter. McCoy couldn't speak much yet—it took him a few minutes of having caffeine in his body before he could say much that was intelligible. Jim leaned in to request a kiss and McCoy gave it, not giving it much thought except to note the minty toothpaste leftover on the edge of Jim’s lip. 

He left the bedroom, to McCoy’s confusion, only to come back with a tray holding a bowl of oatmeal with his preferred dressings, some cut up fruit, and another cup of coffee.

“Oh come on now,” he said, chuckling a little bit at the pageantry of it all. “A tray? What am I, in an old folks home?”

“Just eat. Spock will be back in a moment.”

“What’s he out for?”

“He’s getting something for you.” Jim said. “Now eat.”

“I swear you’re squirmin’ more than a Klingon at a Romulan parade. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing! I’m just waiting for Spock to get back.”

“What time is it?” 

“Before I answer I’m just gonna let you know the three of us are calling out sick today, and you will be taking an additional two days off.

“Well that’s just dishonest,” said McCoy. “Don’t bother with it. I’m fine, I can work today.”

“Well it’s too late for that. It’s around thirteen-hundred hours right now.”

McCoy almost spat out his last gulp of coffee. “Are you fucking serious?”

“We couldn’t wake you, and you need more than just a day here. We have something in the works that Spock should be back with any minute. Finish your breakfast.”

Bones returned to the food with a grumble. Jim chattered for him while he ate, and he paid just enough attention to respond when needed.

When he was finished, they heard the gentle swoosh of the main doors to his quarters open. A moment later, Spock walked into the bedroom, a small wooden box tucked under his arm. 

"Oh no," Bones said. "Don't tell me... "

"Please do not argue, Doct— Leonard. Jim and I put a lot of thought into this.”

"You can call me all the honorifics again," he said. " Sorry, you know how I get. All...emotional.”

Spock's whole face relaxed, even the crease between his eyebrows. "It’s understandable. Please. Open the box and I will explain what Jim and I have prepared for you.”

McCoy opened the wooden box. Inside was a beautiful antique letter set, complete with an ink well, pen, and breathtaking sky blue stationary. He lifted a page out of the box and examined it. The blue of the paper was offset with a sky full of fluffy clouds and a bird flitting by the top of the page every moment or so. Looking at the one page made him feel like a boy, stretched out on the grass and bathed in Georgia sunlight. The stationary appeared the very same on the back. 

“Letter writing is used on Vulcan as a...reconciliation ritual between two who’ve experienced a rift in their relationship,” said Spock. “Often the disagreeing parties will debate the merits for and against them making up for years, but...it is effective. It gives each party the chance to choose their words with the upmost care, which is the most practical and efficient way to convey one’s thoughts.”

“You want me to write him a letter?”

“I have discussed the topic with Lieutenant Evans. He has agreed to read at least one letter from you, and to send at least one letter in response.”

McCoy’s heart felt a rapid sting to his chest, and the heat of poisonous grief flooded his veins again. The pain was not as intense as it had been the night before, but it was still there. 

“When is he expecting this letter?” He asked, speaking the only words he could form. 

“As soon as you are comfortable and able to draft one,” said Spock. “You two may continue to correspond in this manner as long as you please. Captain Kirk and myself offer our word to deliver these letters between the two of you as long as it is needed.”

McCoy returned his gaze to the letter set. He noticed the Vulcan inscription on the top, and knew right away that this had once belonged to Spock. A knot formed in his throat as he attempted to school his face into a neutral expression.

“Whose idea was this?”

Spock responded by straightening his posture and looking Leonard directly in the eyes.

He smiled and let the tear fall. “Well, I guess I should kiss both of you, shouldn’t I?”

“If I may,” said Spock, raising an eyebrow, “can I request to go first?”

Bones answered by standing, cradling Spock’s face in his hands, and giving him a warm, tearful kiss. Spock’s mouth felt gentle against his, and the moment their lips made contact they melted into each other. Bones felt warmth sprout in his stomach and spread through his body.

When he came out of one kiss, Kirk met him before he could even turn around. His mouth was hot and passionate against his, and equally as loving as Spock’s had been. He kissed him with a little more ferocity, to match Jim’s passion. He pressed his cheek to Jim’s and offered an arm out for Spock to join. He approached them, a bit timidly, then allowed Kirk to puppeteer his arms into the “correct” position, so they were all embracing one another.

“Thank you both,” Bones said. “Especially for the letter set.”

Each of them gave him another kiss and spoke their love to him in all of their unique and wonderful ways. 

*

At the end of the days off Jim had all but forced McCoy to take, he felt ready as he'd ever feel to talk to Lieutenant Evans. He used the letter set to invite him to his quarters. Evans had replied yes, and given him a time to meet.

Finally, the telltale chime sounded, and he allowed Evans in. 

McCoy stood and set the glass of whiskey he'd been nursing on the table. He approached Evans with an outstretched hand. Evans shook his hand, his hazel eyes not yet ready to look up and meet his gaze. His brown hair was mussed, the skin around his eyes lined from exhaustion.

"Drink?" Leonard offered.

"Sure thing, doc," said Evans, dispassionately.

"You can call me Leonard," he said.

"Only if you call me Kyle," he returned, with the first hint of liveliness he'd heard all evening.

"Sure thing," said Bones. He handed Kyle a glass of whiskey and raised his own. “You want to make the toast?"

"Okay," said Kyle. He opened his mouth, then closed it, a ghost passing over his expression. 

"Forget it," said McCoy. "I've got one. To Janet Bailey and the baby."

“Cameron,” said Kyle. “We were going to name the baby Cameron.”

A twisting pain filled the pit of his stomach. He nodded, swallowed the pool of saltwater in the back of his throat, and lifted his glass. They toasted in silence.

They fumbled through all of the formalities: commenting on the merits of the drink, giving it an appreciative grunt after taking a sip, before falling into silence.

"So, uh, how have you been?”

“I know what you're gonna try to say, Leonard,” Kyle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But to tell you the truth, I don't need any more apologies. Even from you."

“Seriously?” said Leonard. "Not even from the man who had to break the news to you?"

“You already apologized," he said. "When you broke the news to me you said 'sorry' so much I swear I wanted to clamp my hand over your mouth.”

McCoy opened his mouth, then closed it as he realized he was about to apologize again. “I just want you to know the two of them were my top priority during the power outage. I put everything I had into saving them. Even the best doctor in the world couldn't have—,”

“— I know. I know.” his eyes misted over, and Leonard took his opportunity. 

"Listen. I've been through the wringer more times than l can count. I don't want to sound like your grandpa or nothin’, but...this isn't the end for you. You’re twenty-eight. I got on track to be a doctor at twenty-four because my marriage fell apart and I lost custody of my kid when I tried to fight for it. I thought it was all over. 

“One night...I went out drinking with my buddies and I got a little too wild. Drank a little too much. Wound up in the hospital after a liver transplant and tons of other operations. Back in the old days you really could drink yourself to death, and I came close to it. I would have, if the doctors who worked on me didn’t have the medicine they have now. When I woke up the funniest old guy was taking care of me. All he did was berate me for ‘treating my body like a trashcan’ as he said.” He chuckled fondly. “Boy that old guy tore into me...He told me about places where I could get help, and told me how I’d need to stay on suicide watch, but not with any enthusiasm. Mostly he just...seemed annoyed that I would treat my body so badly.”

“He sounds a little bit like you.”

McCoy chuckled, a twinkle of fondness in his eye. “He was. He was my mentor when I entered medical school. Good man. He saved my life more than just that one time. He reminded me there was way more life out there than just me. He taught me how to heal other people the way I’d been healed. If I hadn’t nearly drank myself to death I would have never met him. I would have never become a doctor.”

A crinkle formed on Kyle’s brow.

“This isn’t me trying to tell you that this all happened for a reason and it’ll make your life better. I’m not stupid. I just want you to know...your life isn’t over. And if you ever feel like it is, or badly in any way, you can talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but you can talk to any of our doctors here. They’re all trained in psychotherapy. You could also transfer to another ship, change jobs, start a farm...hell, you could do anything. You’ve got a lot of life left and I don’t want you throwing it away like I tried to. Am I clear?”

The sound of sniffing made Bones look up and look at Lieutenant Evans. 

He was crying. Bones could tell he would have been sobbing if he weren’t present. His stomach sank.

“Awh jeez, I didn’t mean to—,”

“—no,” he said again. He let go of a long breath and wiped his face. “I kept telling you not to apologize. You...you said everything right.”

“Oh,” he said. “Okay...”

“Thank you,” Evans said. He finished getting himself together and looked at Leonard with a touch of hope in his eyes. “Is there any chance...I could come to you if I needed to? You know, for counseling?”

“I...can’t think of a reason why not.”

The way this kid spoke made Leonard more at ease with what had happened. He made him feel wise. He couldn’t understand why this young man wanted to trust him again after all he’d done to turn him away, but he was grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you, Doctor. Leonard. Sorry, the name may take time to get used to.”

“You can switch between the two. Just don’t call me Doctor Leonard and we’ll be okay.” 

Lieutenant Evans chuckled. It was weak, but a laugh nonetheless. After a moment, he finished his drink in one gulp and said “Thank you for the drink, Doctor. I’ll be in touch.”

Leonard walked the man out. After the door closed behind him, he thought once more of Kirk and Spock, who had opened up the channel between himself and Lieutenant Evans. 

He reminded himself to thank them later.


End file.
